


The Boy Who's Been Living

by MiM



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death Fix, Gen, Past Character Death, Universe Alteration
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 14:56:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14621085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiM/pseuds/MiM
Summary: One fateful Halloween, the Order of the Phoenix has a crisis. The Longbottoms are killed, and the Potter's Secret Keeper goes missing for nearly twelve hours. In the wake of this scare, young Harry Potter lives a happy but sheltered life with his parents and "uncles" Moony, Padfoot, and Wormtail... Until his father is killed on a mission for the Order, Wormtail takes a job as a Hogwarts professor, and Moony is arrested for refusing to comply with a werewolf registry.Now Harry gets to attend Hogwarts, and is determined to study hard so he can help the Order he's grown up idolizing. But Hogwarts is as strange as he's heard, and in a world where Death Eaters announce themselves proudly, Harry isn't sure if he should endanger his new friends with the secrets he's been raised with.





	The Boy Who's Been Living

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've ever posted, and I don't know if people will enjoy it enough to keep posting.
> 
> I just really wanted to know what would happen if Voldemort had decided that pureblood Neville was more of a threat, and I hope maybe someone else will be interested, too!

The November air was cool and dry, a clear breeze disturbing the reddening leaves lining the streets of Godric’s Hollow. On one end of the street stood the amiable figure of an old man, hands clasped lightly beneath the wispy tip of his beard. He looked, it must be said, like a picture book image of a wizard. The only effort made to counter this was the pair of baggy trousers he wore beneath a colorful frock coat, and even this didn’t keep the coat itself from suggesting robes.

If this had been most towns, some secrecy would have been required to curb curiosity about this strange figure, but this was quite normal by the standards of Godric’s Hallow. The village was home to a number of magical families, all of whom knew one another well enough to meet eyes knowingly and smile when they saw one another in public. As for the village’s non-magical residents, they had developed a laid-back attitude towards their neighbors over the generations. Those who remained, while largely ignorant of magic themselves, spoke often about how greatly they enjoyed their eccentric neighbors’ clothing and mannerisms. It gave the place incredible character, they would explain to confused family members who had pointed out the many owls seen in daylight.

This particular character might even have looked familiar to some longtime residents, having grown up on this very street. The Dumbledore family had not lived in the area for many years, however, and this particular Dumbledore- one Albus Dumbledore- did not see anyone outside aside from a couple of owls and a single cat. The hour was two in the afternoon, too early for trick-or-treating. Most children were in school, most adults at work, and so the lone figure with the stereotypic beard enjoyed his own company, and that of the incidental animals.

Some time passed. One of the owls yawned impatiently, shifting from foot to foot near the trunk of its vibrant autumn tree. A quarter of an hour went by, and it took off, silent as death, in the direction of the village proper. The second owl soon followed suit, leaving only the wizard and the cat, staring at at apparently unoccupied house. Its most remarkable feature was how very empty it seemed, and the sad-looking “for sale” sign, bearing the name of a realtor which even the most persistent of aspiring homeowners would never be able to track down. 

At last, without looking away from the house, Dumbledore cleared his throat and said lightly, “I’m glad you could be here, professor.”

The tabby stared, statue-like, green eyes ringed by marks that almost resembled spectacles. After holding Dumbledore’s gaze she carefully picked her way through some bushes, out of sight of the street. Shortly after, in what onlookers would have struggled to call a coincidence, an angular woman dressed in dark colors emerged from the bush. Like the cat, she had mousey brown hair and a sharp expression. Also like the cat, her eyes, behind their lenses, had rings around them. Now, however, the rings were the puffy red marks of someone who had been crying.

Thin lipped and stern, Professor McGonagall surreptitiously took a handkerchief from within one of her navy sleeves and dabbed her eyes, never breaking eye contact.

“Is it really true?” she asked roughly. “The Longbottoms, were they…?”

Dumbledore nodded sadly. “I’m afraid so,” he said.

McGonagall pursed her lips further, taking them from a thin line to allowing them to vanish completely, turning her head away.

“And the boy?” she asked.

“... He was home with his parents, when it happened,” Dumbledore said softly. “For what little comfort it brings, Voldemort was uncharacteristically brief with his visit. It doesn’t appear that any of them suffered much.”

They were both quiet for some time. Frank and Alice Longbottom had been dear friends, and their son only a year old.

“What about the Potters?” she asked, finally.

“James and Lily are helping to search for Peter,” he said.

“And their boy?”

“Fine, safe. Hagrid is bringing him back here.”

“Hagrid?” McGonagall repeated, taken aback. “And back here? Do you think that wise? Heavens knows we don’t need something to happen to another-” but Dumbledore raised one wrinkled hand to silence her, looking tired.

“I trust Hagrid completely.”

McGonagall frowned, but said nothing more about it.

“As for where the Potters should go, it seems the danger has passed for them, for now. As much as it passes for any of us in these dark times. And since it doesn’t seem the charm was broken, this is still be best place for them. The Order can protect the next cottage over until James and Lily return to access their house. Better to let the boy sleep in his own bed after the day we’ve had.”

Just then there was a hum overhead, in the direct opposite where the owls had flown. The sound grew louder, climbing first to a grumble and then a roar as a black mass became visible in the sky above. At first resembling, and undoubtedly mistaken for, a helicopter, the thing in the sky took shape as it flew towards the two wixen on the road. As they watched, the enormous motorbike touched down lightly on the cobbled street of Godric’s Hollow. When it’s enormous rider switched the engine off, the silence was palpable. 

But not long lasting. Unfolding his tremendous legs from the bike, Hagrid climbed off and lumbered- that is, took unnecessarily small, careful steps- towards them. In the crook of one arm was a bassinet.

“Good day, Hagrid,” McGonagall said. “I trust all went well? And that you didn’t attract too much attention?” This last was delivered somewhat more sternly than is appropriate to a grown man, and few men were as grown as Hagrid, but he didn’t seem to notice.”

“No, no, no trouble at all. Only tried flying the last few miles, wanted to find a real quiet patch before I tried it. And Harry’s been a dream- dozed off halfway here. Must’ve known he was heading home.” the half giant smiled fondly at his charge, great arms swaying it ever so gently so as not to disturb the baby. After it became obvious he had forgotten why they were there, Dumbledore cleared his throat.

“Ah, Hagrid?” he asked. Hagrid hummed in response, not looking up from the baby. “May I have Harry, please?”

He held out his hands patiently. There was a pause, during which Hagrid continued to be enchanted by paternal emotion, until he suddenly registered what had just been said.

“Oh! Oh yes. Yes of course, headmaster, sir. Here y’go- oop, mind his little head, don’t want him rolling around too much in there! Ah, there we… There. Yes.” Hagrid said, executing the transfer with sincere concern.

With the babe in his arms, Dumbledore led them to the unoccupied and up it’s shallow steps. Hardly pausing over the door with his free hand he undid the single physical lock and created a gap in the half-dozen magic seals surrounding the door. They went inside.

No other members of the Order of the Phoenix were there. This wasn’t a headquarters, just a relatively secure hiding and meeting place which was fortunately near to several Order member’s homes. (They all liked to imagine that perhaps if there were enough of them fighting Voldemort, and if they were organized enough and clever enough, perhaps when something happened help wouldn’t arrive too late.) Even so, it was ready for company, the inside warmer and cleaner than the exterior would suggest. A mismatched sofa and loveseat lines two sides of a rug, which laid dangerously close to the cold fireplace, and behind the sofa was a doorway leading to a modestly stocked kitchen.

Dumbledore set the bassinet down on the rug in front of the loveseat and sat down.

“Ah,” he said, smiling at the donated furniture.”This is cozy.”

McGonagall seemed markedly less sure. 

“Albus,” she said. “Are you sure Peter is… Well? Even if the charm is in place, there’s no way to know when he’ll turn up or in, in what condition.” she said, stumbling over her own words. “Albus,” she said again, “I don’t know how long we can carry on like this. Friends, students, babies dying every day, always trying to find a safe house that’s safe enough… We need to do something.”

“If anyone can find Peter, it’ll be those three,” Hagrid said roughly from where he stood, head bowed to avoid the ceiling, beside the front door. “I’d bet- well, maybe not my life, but my pumpkins’ lives- I’d bet every pumpkin on the vine that Sirius could find him, but with Lily and James’ with him, Peter’s as good as found. Don’t you worry about that,” Hagrid said, probably trying his best to be comforting.

“As for what to do about Voldemort…” Dumbledore said, ignoring Hagrid’s exaggerated flinch at hearing the name, “He believed himself nearly invincible. He’s recently been given reason to doubt that. What happened to the Longbottom’s was his way of reassuring himself, but I doubt this is the end of his worries about this. I suspect Voldemeort will take some time now, draw back, and focus on putting additional measures in place to preserve his own life.”

He didn’t add that he would continue looking for any opportunity to murder the Potters, but when Harry made a small sound from within his blankets, they were reminded anyway.

Hagrid had already left by the time the sun went down, so when the fireplace suddenly came to life with a young man's head among the logs, only Mcgonagall and Dumbledore were there to feel startled. 

“James,” Dumbledore said to the head the the fire, whose messy dark hair and worried hazel eyes turned towards his voice.

“Dumbledore,” James answered. “Do you have Harry? Is everyone alright?”

“We are fine,” Dumbledore gestured to himself, McGonagall, and the bassinet containing James’ son. “How is Peter?”

Relief broke over James’ tired face. “We found him. His cover was blown, but he talked his way out somehow and apparated to London. Frank and Alice may be… But, everyone else is safe. Sirius and Lupin are taking Peter, and Lily and I were about to start flying home, unless you think it’s safer to aparate.” 

“As if you’ve ever cared about safety on a broom,” McGonagall huffed, earning a sly smile from James. 

“Watch after Harry. We’ll be home soon,” he said, and the fireplace went empty and quiet again.

“‘Watch after Harry,’” McGonagall echoed after he had been gone. “Of course we’ll watch after Harry- as if the Order would let anything happen after we’ve already lost-” and then she stopped herself, before finishing, “from now on, member’s of our Order will know their children are safe. This will be the safest baby in Britain, if that’s what it takes for him to grow up.”

Dumbledore took this rant in with a curious expression, eyes crinkling behind his half moon spectacles despite the horrors and stress of the day as he turned to Harry, now awake and staring up at him with large green eyes.

“I only hope you forgive us for keeping you in such a dangerous world.”

**Author's Note:**

> Don't worry guys, Neville is alive. What happens to the Longbottoms is explained later.


End file.
